


May Fate be on your Side

by AstriferousSprite



Series: Renaissance AU [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Canon-Typical Violence, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, Duke Finn technically, Jewish Character, M/M, Prince Finn, Rey Skywalker, Swordfighting, Well - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9694832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstriferousSprite/pseuds/AstriferousSprite
Summary: It is 1527. The First Order has just invaded the peaceful city-state of D'Qar, kicking out its former duke, Finn Galletti. All seems hopeless--until a certain bard comes along.





	1. The Bard at the Square

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Stormpilot week! This was written for day one, with the prompt _historical/modern._ So, what's better than a good old-fashioned Renaissance AU?

Finn sat at the edge of the square, notebook in hand.

Ever since the occupation of D’Qar, the former duke felt like he had far too much idle time. The occupation of his palace had led him to flee to a friend, and anxiously wait around while the First Order of Christ sat about establishing strict laws and building up the army to rather uncomfortable sizes.

So, what was there to do? All Finn could do was busy himself: helping Rey and her father with the harvest, practice his art, sit around the town square and observe his former subjects go about their business. Often, the latter two went hand in hand.

This evening’s subject was a young man, maybe a few years older than Finn, although it was hard to tell behind his neatly-trimmed beard and youthful demeanor. He was busy entertaining the village children with his lute, singing some nonsense song about stars and knights. Every so often a stray curl would fall into his face, and he would just smile and toss his head back.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

Finn made sure to take his time with his furtive glances and careful charcoal strokes, trying his best to capture the man at his lute. The process was rather challenging, as he kept moving around and laughing as he strummed, but Finn tried, studying his face and attempting to recreate it on parchment. He had a nice nose, Finn noted; it was prominent and suited the rest of his angular face rather nicely.

Then the man turned to look at him, and immediately stopped playing.

Finn felt his stomach drop as they made eye contact, nearly breaking the stick of charcoal he held in his hand.   _Oh, Adonai, don’t let him think I’m strange. It’s not like I was completely_ staring _at him, right?_

Instead, the man smiled. Finn weakly smiled back.

He turned to a young woman beside him with black hair and an orange gown and said something, laying down his lute. The woman nodded, grabbing a fiddle and placing it under her chin.

Finn hardly understood until the man walked up to him and took a deep bow.

“Poe da Meron,” he said, grinning.

“Finn Galletti,” he replied, then frowned. He was the duke, of _course_ everyone already knew his name.

At that moment, the woman in orange began playing a cheerful melody.

Poe extended his hand. “May I have this dance, your Grace?”

Raising an eyebrow, Finn took it.

He smiled, reeling him in as the flock of children joined them again in dancing. Poe, as it turned out, was a delightful partner, spinning around with joy and never faltering with his footwork. Finn couldn’t help but laugh as Poe brought him in for a spin, before reeling him back in and letting the Duke fall in his arms.

It may have not been a banquet, but it had all the atmosphere of one. All around them, various dancers were circling around them, and other musicians had joined in: another fiddler and a tambourine player, to be exact. Meanwhile, the observers who weren’t dancing were clapping and cheering along with the beat. It was wild and casual, but above all, it was fun like Finn hadn’t seen in months.

He couldn’t tell how long they’d been dancing. All he knew was that after some time, the orange lady and her compatriots set down their instruments with a loud sigh.

“That was…” He grinned. “That was something.”

“Indeed,” said Poe, bending down to press a featherlight kiss on Finn’s hand. “But I must be off. It was an honor, your Grace.”

Finn could only dizzily nod as Poe walked off, lute strung over his back. “Safe travels.”

 

“I think I’m in love.”

Rey snorted, continuing to fill her basket with unsold wares. “You’ve only said his name about eighteen times since you’ve come here, my friend.”

“Then it’s got to be fate,” said Finn, resting his arm on her stand. “Rey, you have to understand— _he_ was the one who came up to me in the first place.” He sighed. “He _kissed my_ —”

“You’re getting that _look_ again,” said Rey, flicking him on the forehead. “I get it, your Dreaminess, you love him.”

“Oh, shut your mouth,” he said, grabbing a fig out of her basket. “Anyways, how was _your_ day?”

She frowned. “Business is slower than usual. I think everyone’s lost their spirit after the Order … you know.”

Finn nodded, licking fruit juice from his lips. “And how’s Signor da Cielo?”

“Papa’s trying to stay positive for our sake, but he and I both know that it’s all…” She paused, eyes widening. “Oh, hell.”

The long shadows drew nearer.

“The Legionnaires,” he whispered, hand twitching near his sword as the battalion advanced towards them. “Oy! _Signors!_ ”

They stopped, puzzled.

Finn shook his head. “You _idiots,_ ” he yelled. “You _fools._ Your back is towards the sun, we could see you _minutes_ ago.”

And then he struck.

Even with their own weapons drawn, the Legionnaires could hardly expect Finn’s sword clanging against theirs. Rey swiftly joined him, her own sword drawn in anticipation as she swung at them, yelling with rage all the while. Within five minutes, the entire battalion was lying face down.

Someone applauded.

Finn turned around—only to come face-to-face with Poe da Meron and the orange woman from the square, both hollering with delight. “Jessika, did you _see_ that?”

“Sweet _Lord_ , I did,” said the woman, who was laughing. “Shit, they went through those asses like lard, didn’t they?”

Rey’s eyes widened as she sheathed her sword—no doubt checking Jessika out.

“Softened lard,” said Poe, nodding. “Oh! Your Grace!”

Finn nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Da Meron. Good to see you again.”

“I never knew you could fight like that,” said Poe, eyes wide in amazement. “I mean, I knew you knew _how_ to, but I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” said Finn, wiping his hands on his doublet (it wasn’t a particularly nice one, he didn’t mind it getting _too_ filthy). “But, I suppose we must be off.” He winked at Poe. “ _Arrivederci_.”

He could have sworn he heard Poe stammer.

 

The next afternoon, Finn was back at the square with his notebook. A young girl with fiery red hair and a skip rope had caught his eye, so he was busy with capturing her likeness—when he heard a lute and a _very_ familiar voice.

“Flashing his sword at the Legionnaires,” sang Poe, as Jessika fiddled next to him with a smile, “Finn the duke saved us all!”

Finn stared at him wide-eyed as Poe continued to sing about him vanquishing “bucketheads,” as the Order’s Legionnaires were so fondly known in D’Qar. People were clapping along and laughing. The redhead had abandoned her skip rope in favor of dancing along.

Poe finished his song with a flourish, when he caught Finn’s eye again. “Oh, look! Our hero is here!”

“Your Grace!” Almost immediately, Finn was swamped with children climbing on top of him. People were putting flowers in his hair. Someone was crying out of admiration.

It was overwhelming, yet … it was nice.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, once the crowd of adorers had backed off. “But thank you anyways.”

“It’s nothing, your Grace,” said Poe, smiling widely. “Although I _do_ have one small request.”

“Yes?”

“I never did get to see that drawing you made of me.”

 _Shit._ “Oh, um, it’s nothing special,” said Finn, shyly opening his notebook to the image of Poe from the previous night. The man had his head tilted back in joy, long curls plastered across his forehead as he strummed his lute. “Just a rough sketch.”

Poe whistled as he looked at it. “I don’t know, it looks pretty good for a rough sketch.” He looked back up. “Honestly, your Grace. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s nothing.” He rolled his eyes. “I could show you how a _proper_ drawing is made, if you want.”

Poe snorted. “Sure.” When Finn didn’t laugh back, he stopped. “Wait, honestly?”

“Of course, I have to memorialize the great bard of D’Qar somehow.”

Poe opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

Finn chuckled. “Is that a yes?”

“Oh, yes!” He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Finn smiled, holding out his hand. “Then what are we waiting for?”

 

Rey and her father were both out at the market, meaning the house was empty when Finn and Poe walked in.

“This yours?” asked Poe, settling on the couch in Finn’s makeshift studio.

He shook his head, placing a fresh canvas on the easel. “No, I’m staying with a friend. You know, the fruit sellers at the market?”

“Rey da Cielo?” Poe sat up straight, hands folded in his lap.

“That’s right,” he said, picking up a fresh piece of charcoal. “Alright, now, let’s do this.”

However, after a few charcoal strokes, it was evident that this wasn’t going to work out.

“Do you have to sit like that?” asked Finn, sighing.

Poe frowned. “Like what?”

“Like _that._ ” He gestured to the stiff way Poe was sitting. “It doesn’t look right. This isn’t a royal portrait, you don’t have to sit so formally.”

“Then how _should_ I sit?”

“Just—” Finn rubbed his forehead, leaving charcoal stains on it. “Just act naturally. Recline like you would at home.”

Those words might have been a mistake.

In a flash, Poe pulled his doublet over his head. Finn could only gape as his tunic soon followed, landing unceremoniously on the floor as he lay back on the couch, arm slung over his head.

Finn gasped silently as he took it in, silently thanking the Lord that Poe had kept his breeches on (although he couldn’t stop himself from whispering the _Shehecheyanu_ upon seeing Poe’s toned and scruffy chest). “Alright, I…” _Damn it, Galletti, focus!_ “…I think that’s good, yeah.”

Poe was silent as Finn sketched, completely still save for the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional yawn. Finn, in return, didn’t say anything as he drew, letting himself linger with his glances.

“It’s finished,” he eventually declared, setting his charcoal down. Poe walked over to where he was standing, hand gently brushing against Finn’s as he looked at the drawing.

“It’s…” He sighed. “…wow.” He looked back up, eyes sparkling. “It’s lovely, your Grace.”

“Call me Finn,” he whispered, gently setting the canvas down. He suddenly registered how heavily the two of them were breathing.

Poe nodded, biting his lip. “Right. _Finn._ ” The way he whispered his name left Finn feeling lightheaded.

Neither of them moved for a while, faces still close.

Finn took a shy step forward. When Poe didn’t say anything, he let his eyes close and gently brushed their lips together.

After a few seconds, he pulled back. “Sorry.”

“Why?” asked Poe, and soon arms were on his shoulders and oh, Poe was kissing him, slowly yet passionately. Finn wrapped his arms around Poe’s bare waist as he kissed back.

Poe pulled away quickly, motioning to Finn’s chest. Heart thumping, he tugged his doublet off, letting it fall to the floor as he gently brushed the other man’s cheek, pressing a kiss to his forehead before capturing his lips again.

“I,” Poe whispered after a while, resting his forehead against Finn’s, “I believe we should continue on the couch.”

The thought of his couch being used for anything other than posing should have scandalized him, but instead it sent a rush of energy down his spine. “Good idea,” he said, smiling giddily.

Just as he was about to lean in again, there was a brutal hand at his neck.

“Wait—” He could only struggle as more armored hands were on him, pulling him away. “Wait, Poe! _Poe!_ ”

“Shut your mouth,” said a brutal voice—the voice of a Legionnaire.

“ _No!_ ”

Still, all Poe could do was look on with terror as the duke was dragged off.


	2. As Fate Wills it

Furious, Poe slipped his tunic back on and, for good measure, hooked Finn’s scabbarded sword onto his belt. Almost instantly, he bolted out of the da Cielo house, heading straight for the market.

When he got there, Jessika was engaged in deep conversation with a fruit seller in a braided headscarf.

“…and that’s when that beast—Poe!” She turned her head, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Gasping, he turned to the other woman. “You’re Rey, right?” She nodded as he continued. “The—His—” He shook his head. “Finn’s been kidnapped.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “ _No._ ”

“I’m afraid so,” he said, turning to the direction of the ducal palace. “But we can’t just stand here. You have your sword, right?”

“Of course,” said Rey, almost scandalized.

“Good.” He turned back to her. “I need you to come with me. Jessika, go get Karé and Iolo and the others.” He rested his hand on his hip. “We’re raiding the palace tonight.”

 

Finn was honestly fed up with this Order.

“Don’t you—have a classier method of torturing?” he gasped as soon as his head was violently jerked up from the freezing water, hands tied behind his back.

“I just expected something classier from the Order,” he said, ignoring the way the soldier’s hand tightened around his neck. “Brazen bull, perhaps? The rack? Judas’s cradle—”

He was rewarded for his sass with another submersion of his face.

“We don’t have all day, Galletti,” hissed the Legionnaire as Finn surfaced again, sputtering and gasping for air. “We’ve heard information about rogue soldiers. _Where are they?_ ”

“Y-you killed them all,” he said, choking up water. “Along with my parents, remember?”

The Legionnaire holding his neck grunted. “Perhaps Lord Ren will be more effective,” he said, releasing Finn’s neck. “Bondi. Stand guard.”

“Affirmative,” said Bondi as the remaining Legionnaires walked out. Finn eyed him with suspicion.

“You _honestly_ think I was never trained to escape bondage?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well—”

“ _Fool,_ ” he said, raising his arms.

In a flash, he had risen from the chair, kicking at Bondi as he raised his sword at the right angle.

Finn jerked around, the blade barely missing him as it sliced through his ropes. “Why, thank you,” he said mockingly, before spinning back around and grabbing the struggling soldier’s wrists as he aimed for his throat with his fist.

The sword fell to the floor with a loud clang.

“Get out of here,” hissed Finn in the soldier’s face. “Tell your friends what happened.”

He ran off. Satisfied, Finn picked up his sword, then on second thought, lay it down again. It would be easier for him to sneak around without it, and besides, this _was_ his old home; he knew where the armory was.

Feeling his heart race with anticipation, Finn took off.

 

Meanwhile, the band of rebels slowly approached the palace.

“…you know what to do,” whispered Poe, hand still on Finn’s sword. “And may Fate be on everyone’s side.”

That phrase had not been uttered in years, not since the days of House Galletti. Needless to say, everyone approved.

“Alright,” he said, cocking his head towards the guards. “ _Andiamo._ ”

The guards flanking the door were caught a bit off guard when Poe and Rey struck at them, knocking them unconscious in seconds. Poe felt just a bit sorry for them—he should have told them his parents were both Galletti soldiers.

Even as the alarm was sounded, the rebels continued to slash their way through the palace, fighting off Legionnaires as they crossed their path. Poe dimly remembered cutting down a weasel-faced ginger who wouldn’t shut up about “ _honor._ ”

“The dungeons,” he said after a while, breathing heavily. “Where are the—”

“They’re empty,” said Iolo, reappearing at his side. “There’s ropes in one of the cells—I think he escaped.”

Hope bubbled in Poe’s chest. “Well, let’s go find him.”

That was easier done than said.

Running down the hallway, Poe suddenly heard the clang of metal against metal—strange, considering they had yet to infiltrate this part of the palace.

Silently, Poe crept up to the scene, where he saw—

“ _Finn!_ ” he called out, then cursed his stupidity. Immediately, a battalion of Legionnaires descended upon him, led by an impossibly-tall woman in silver armor.

It was him, though. The former duke was engaged in combat with Lord Ren, a menacing figure of a man clad in black robes. He had found himself a sword and shield with the old Galletti crest on it—Poe could tell from the bright gold and the six-pointed-star.

No time to reminisce, though. He had a battle to fight.

Thankfully, Rey and the others joined him in battle, keeping the battalion at bay while Finn swung at Ren again and again.

“You _traitor,_ ” he heard Ren hiss, “the Empire will rise again!”

“Think again, fool.”

Poe had to stifle a laugh as he fought off the last few soldiers. Seconds later, he heard Ren scream, and a body collapse onto the floor.

With the last of the battalion gone, he turned around.

Finn sheathed his sword. “He’s dead,” he said, resting a hand on his hip.

Poe walked up to him, staring at the lifeless body of Ren. “We came here to save you.”

“Much appreciated,” said Finn, smiling. Poe tried to lean in, but had a hand firmly placed on his chest. “Wait! You’re filthy. Besides, I have something to do.”

 

Finn made his way to the throne room, heart thumping.

He’d recognize it once he saw it up close again, lying upon the velvet cushion: the Ducal crown, worn by his father before him, and now it was his turn.

With shaky hands, Finn grabbed the crown and made his way down the hall, nodding at Poe. “The people deserve to see their leader return.” Poe smiled in response, laying a hand on his arm.

The fresh air outside was a welcome relief to the stifling cold of the dungeon and the heat of battle. A crowd had formed outside, waiting anxiously as he stepped outside.

Taking a deep breath, Finn raised the crown— _his_ crown—up above his head. “My people, I have returned.”

With the citizens cheering, the duke crowned himself once again.

 

_EPILOGUE_

Exactly a year had passed since the Order had been driven out of the city. This evening, there were no swords or bucketheads—just a colorful crowd surrounding the cloth streamers and pastry vendors as D’Qar celebrated its first year of fair rule after the Order.

Tonight, Finn was cheerfully weaving through the square, with the prince-consort  at his side. Catching the eye of a fruit seller in a green dress, he waved.

“Rey!”

“Happy Liberation Day!” she called out cheerfully, holding Jessika’s hand. “Dad’s just taking over, so I’m finally free for the dance, oh, I'm so excited!”

“The dance?”

Poe chuckled from next to him. “You think there wouldn’t be one?”

“No, I’m just surprised,” he said, smiling. “When’s it starting?”

“About now,” said Jessika, pulling out her fiddle and running to the center of the square. “Come on, _signors,_ those feet aren’t going to move themselves!”

“Papa! Papa!” The young redhead girl—Bea, as Finn came to know their new heir apparent—ran up to them, streamer flowing behind her as she grinned widely. “Are you going to dance now?”

“Of course,” said Finn, holding out his hand to Poe as Jessika began to play a cheerful tune. “May I have this dance?”

“Always the sentimental fool,” said Poe, grinning as he took it. “Come on.”

And they danced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Check out [my tumblr](http://lesbiangffa.tumblr.com) if y'all enjoyed that


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